


A Gilded Cage

by Camfield, Dellessa



Series: A Gilded Cage [2]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, M/M, Mech Preg, Slavery, Spark Sex, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-31
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-11 03:52:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camfield/pseuds/Camfield, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/pseuds/Dellessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bluestreak looked away. He wasn’t sure how different this was. He was a prisoner. Sure he wasn’t collared, but a cage was a cage, and...he didn’t even know. He wanted to curl up and cry. But that would do little good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gilded Cage

Title: A Gilded Cage  
Authors:  Camfield and Delessa  
Verse: G1-ish  
Series: none  
Rating: M  
Warnings:  Slavery, Non-Con. Mech Preg. Sticky. Spark sex.  
Pairings/Characters:  BlueStreak/Starscream  
Notes:  Prompts. 15 min time limit....which turned into a Round Robin.  
Summary:  Bluestreak looked away. He wasn’t sure how different this was. He was a prisoner. Sure he wasn’t collared, but a cage was a cage, and...he didn’t even know. He wanted to curl up and cry. But that would do little good.   
Prompt:  Starscream/Bluestreak - “Kiss me, kill me.”  
Words: 2465  
  
Bluestreak glared at the seeker from where he was sitting on the berth. “You, you can’t do this. They will find me. I know Sunstreaker and Sideswipe will find me.”   
  
Starscream only smirked, “I somehow doubt it. I doubt they are even alive.”   
  
Bluestreak’s faceplates fell, “You--you don’t know that.”   
  
“No, I do not. I do know your side has lost. You should be thankful I took an interest in you. You could be a slave like the rest.”   
  
Bluestreak looked away. He wasn’t sure how different this was. He was a prisoner. Sure he wasn’t collared, but a cage was a cage, and...he didn’t even know. He wanted to curl up and cry. But that would do little good.   
  
Starscream grabbed the Praxian’s chin and forced him to look up. “You should be thankful, grateful. I could have left you to die.”  
  
Bluestreak shook, “Kiss me, Kill me, I don't care any more. Anything...anything would be better than a gilded cage.”  
  
“You don’t mean that.” Starscream said.  
  
Bluestreak shook, his optics offlining. Starscream was right in that. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want this either, but it was all he had.   
  
Hands pushed him back, Starscream laying him out on the berth with an extraordinary amount of care, something that Bluestreak hated more than the hits that had landed when he’d been in the brig.  His optics stayed offline, even as he felt his panel being stroked.  Each and every small movement against the metal heating it more, his processor keeping a mantra, a small part of it hoping, even as the rest squashed that thought like an organic bug.  
  
No one was coming.  No one was coming.  It hurt, almost as much as being here, that he would be here, forever.  There was nothing left, not with Prime’s helm mounted in Megatron’s room, not with the Autobots passed out as slaves to the Decepticons, meant to work until they offlined, or serve as pleasure bots until they were ruined and broken.  
  
He was lucky, Starscream seemed to have no interest in breaking him, in ruining him.  It was strange, he thought.  He lay there and the seeker moved to straddle his thighs, thumbs  running up and down the seams of his interface panels.  Pleasure zinged through his body, and his hands clenched into the berth foam even as his processor protested.  The heat coming off of Starscream’s own panel was indicator enough of what he wanted, and Bluestreak couldn’t help the sob that welled up and out of him.    
  
Starscream wasn’t the twins.  Wasn’t the bots that he’d pledged his spark to.  There was nothing about this that was okay, nothing about this that gave him any modicum of comfort.  He tried to bring his knees together, tried to protect himself, but his legs were just gently pushed apart, kept spread as the catches on his panels gave way and he was bared to the room.  
  
“Beautiful.”  
  
No.  Not beautiful, and not right. He tried to let his mind drift away. It was what he had done in the beginning, but Starscream had caught on to his tricks. It wasn’t something that the seeker would tolerate. That way was laced with pain. He knew better enough not to fight it, not to cry, but he still was not a willing participant.   
  
He onlined his optics, and watched the seeker in a detached manner. Starscream was talented in the berth, he would give him that. His fans roared to life despite himself.  
  
“So very beautiful.” Starscream murmured above him, and he could have screamed.  
  
The black helm lowered, glossa coming out to trace over the anterior node, each pass making Bluestreak’s body tighten up.  His tanks churned, threatening to purge, and only his will kept it from happening.  A finger slipping inside along with the glossa, probing, stroking.  This was only the prelude, he knew.    
  
Even as his frame arched, as he released a gush of lubricant in overload, he burned on the inside.  Praying to a silent god that this would end, praying that someone would kill him, and take that choice from him.  
  
His spike still jutted up, pressurized and ready, and Starscream lowered himself on it with a sigh of pleasure that nearly made Bluestreak push him off.  
  
He didn’t though, he knew better than to try that. He could only sit back and wait for the seeker to finish, unfortunately the seeker took his time.   
  
Moving slowly Starscream rolled his hips, taking the spike in deep until it hit the nodes at the end of his valve, and grinding it for a moment until the charge was unbearable high for Bluestreak. It was impossible for him to just pretend it wasn’t happening to him. Charge crackled across his plating.   
  
Starscream let his head fall back, letting out a long drawn out moan. “So peeeerfect.” And mine. Starscream didn’t have to say it for Bluestreak to finish the sentence. The seeker had done everything he could to make his ownership known.   
  
Bluestreak was branded.  The glyphs of Starscream’s name burned into his sensor wings, making them more sensitive.  Something that the Seeker took advantage of repeatedly, anywhere he liked.  
  
The roll of hips over his was etched into his processor.  The movement memorized, the dance familiar every time it happened.  
  
“Move, Bluestreak.”   And he did.  Hands coming up to just lightly rest on Starscream’s waist, his knees bending, pedes coming to rest on the berth.  Lifting his own hips up as the Seeker came down, both of them meeting in the middle with a soft clang.  Rolling into a rhythm, his optics bleak and uncaring as he watched Starscream arch over him, wings spread wide.  
  
He hated it. The way his own synapsis jolted, the charge singing across his own circuits, and finally he could take it no more. He thrust hard into the Seeker over and over again until they were both screaming as the overload took them.   
  
Starscream fell on him, all hot armour and graceless limbs. Their armour pinged with the heat of it, and faintly crackled as the last of the energy discharged.   
  
Starscream rolled over, taking Bluestreak with him, curling around the Praxian. He traced the brands across the doorwings and smirked. “Time, pet, all you need is time.  You’ll forget them all soon enough.”  
  
Never.  Bluestreak vowed every time he heard that, he would never, ever forget them.  Even when Starscream hooked a hand around his waist and pulled him close, even when the heat against his wings stirred his interface array.  Even when the hand over his waist drew patterns in his plating.  
  
Even when a spike was pushed into his valve from behind and he couldn’t help but cry out.  
  
Starscream hummed behind him, nuzzling his neck cabling. “You still doubt it, I can tell. Eventually though, I will win this. I always win.”   
  
Bluestreak offlined his optics, hating the way the lubricant gathered in them. He stayed silent. What was there to say? He hurt in ways that Starscream did not care about. More so he was terrified that the twins really were out there somewhere dead, or dying, and there was nothing he could do about it.   
  
“Perhaps if you’re good...”  The end of the sentence was left in the air, but Bluestreak didn’t know if Starscream was being honest or not.  Still... any possibility, ANY possibility that would get him to see the twins again was worth it.  
  
“I am good, you know I’m good.”  He lifted his leg, bending it at the knee and extending it back over Starscream’s top one.  The heel of his pede just touching behind the white thigh.  
  
“Oh are you?  A good pet would participate, wouldn’t they.  They’d enjoy the treat I’m giving them.”  Starscream smiled against his neck, baring denta to press them into the cabling there.  
  
And that was the catch, because Bluestreak couldn’t enjoy it.  Not when every time Starscream  interfaced him it was like the first, horrible time.  The only difference was in his reactions, his control over his expressions.  
  
“I--I am.” Bluestreak said, shaking. He arched back, pressing himself into the Seeker. He knew what he had to do...let go. Stop caring, but it was an impossible thing. “Please. I will be better.”   
  
Starscream nipped at the cabling, “Oh, Bluestreak.”  His voice was part condescending, part encouraging.  “I’m sure you will be.”  
  
Bluestreak reached back, his hand sliding over Starscream’s aft.  He would do better, he would.  Because any chance that he could see the twins...  Maybe he could convince Starscream to take them on as well.  
  
Because that was hope, and it was the only thing he had at the moment.  
  
Just the thought of the twins warmed him up, his body moving more fluidly against the Seeker’s.  “I promise.  I am, I will.”  He turned his helm, the corner of his lips touching the other’s. Vents mingling as his systems heated up even more, the goal, the promise of something dear urging him to give it his all.  
  
“I will hold you to it.” Starscream whispered into his audial, his voice ending in static. The Praxian’s body wiggled against his own as the charge continued to build again. Their plating already pinging with heat. His digits skimmed across Blue’s side, finally stopping on his hips, pulling him back hard, leaving little dents that would remain for mega-cycles, just another claiming mark. Each hard thrust made Bluestreak’s vents hitch and finally sent him wailing.  
  
Transfluid shot out to hit the end of his valve, battering the sensor nodes with each gush.  The stream never ending, because Starscream wanted something, and all of this was a means to an end.  Holding Bluestreak’s valve flush with his housing, making sure that the viscous liquid stayed inside, locking them together with a special transformation sequence that made sure that Bluestreak wouldn’t be able to move, to dislodge the Seeker’s spike from his valve.  “Take it, all of it.”  
  
He did, the lining of his valve absorbing the transfluid as quickly as Starscream could make it. The coding being stripped from the lubricant and transferred into his gestational tank to mix with his own special code.  
  
Starscream held him tightly, even when Bluestreak began to squirm within his hold, he held the Praxian until he was sure the transfluid had all been absorbed. He finally let the Praxian go, pushing him down onto his back, “Open up.”  
  
This was new. They had done many things, but never shared sparks. Bluestreak looked up at him mulishly for a moment before he finally remembered his earlier promise, and slowly opened his chest plating, baring his spark.   
  
He kept optic contact with Starscream even though it nearly hurt him to do so, gaze trying to shift every few klicks, and he had to consciously re-adjust to keep it steady.  “Spark...”  
  
A digit came down to track through the whirling miasma, Bluestreak shuddering at the sensation.  It was so different than physical interfacing, the whole bearing of his person, his being.  His soul open for the other to see.  
  
  
He shuddered again, fear shining in his optics as Starscream lowered his own spark to cover Bluestreak’s own. The coronas touched, fields intermingling, and finally the spark-mass itself intertwined. Bluestreak did not know where he began and Starscream ended, the other crashing into him like an immovable object, and then, surprisingly intertwining. The Seeker was everywhere/everything burning brightly against his spark, the brightest silver and the biting taste of copper. The feeling sent the praxian soaring like no physical interface could, and terrified him more than anything in his long life. He had not expected this. Not...he didn’t have the word for it. The seeker was old, so very old.   
  
And then the merge went deeper and Bluestreak saw Vos, he saw Cybertron before the war, when everyone still was one faction.  Everything still combined and  together .  The memory of a young Starscream learning to fly, of his first crash and trying hard not to cry even though one wing was completely ruined.  Of seeing Megatron for the first time, standing tall and handsome, covered in energon after a won fight.  Of joining up with the Decepticons because he’d seen what the council was doing, had seen how the lower class were staying stagnant, kept in poverty by cruel laws and even more cruel enforcement.  Saw the changes in all of them over time, even up to the very end.  
  
And his own memories rushed by.  Of the destruction of Praxus, by the Seeker’s own hands, and how he held such hate, because it had left him ALONE.  One of only three surviving Praxians, and he hated that even more.  Fighting for something, because if he didn’t, he would be fighting for revenge, and that was the one thing he’d always recalled his parents talking about.  Revenge ruins a bot, so Bluestreak tried not to see, tried to fight only for the cause that was just, even when the blackness in his spark and processor railed against him constantly.  
  
Of joining the Autobots, with Optimus Prime as a figurehead, Bluestreak had figured it was his best option, his best chance to keep himself from revenge.   
  
He was carried through it all like a tidal wave swept him away. He clung to the Seeker, holding him tightly, and for once did not resent him. He was the one thing anchoring Bluestreak, the one thing keeping him from being swept away with the memories.   
  
“You always have been a survivor. I hope our sparks will share that trait.”    
  
“I...I don’t understand.”  He pulled away, tried to pull away, but even then it felt as though a piece of Starscream’s spark was embedded into his own. Stuck fast, and he panicked as he tried to pull away, and panicked more as the energy gathered and pulsed through them, sending him over the edge and into darkness.  
  
When he came to, it was alone on the berth.  Fluid dried over his legs and pelvic plate, the lights off and a cube of energon set on the berthside table.   He lay there, optics unseeing as they dripped liquid down the side of his face.  
  
His hands came up to cover the newspark, the fluttery feeling already as much a part of him as it could be, and cried in the dark.  Pedesteps ignored as they walked over and a frame sat behind him, petting his helm as he sobbed.


End file.
